


Wait, That's Not What Happened... Mambo #3

by MajorTrouble, Octinary



Series: Mambo #5 [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coën is a Perfect Gentleman, F/M, First Dates, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Insecurity, M/M, Meet-Cute, Slow Burn, Swearing, Tissaia is Kind Of Mean, dating show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28997526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble/pseuds/MajorTrouble, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octinary/pseuds/Octinary
Summary: After Essi convinces him to drunkenly sign up as a contestant onPick and Choose, the premiere dating show for the modern professional, Jaskier is elated to find himself going on a series of first dates with each of his potential matches: the alluring and beautiful Yennefer, the cocky and confident Valdo, the strong and silent Geralt, and the friendly and clever Priscilla.  The matchmakers on the show really did a bang up job and each choice represents a perfect platonic ideal of one facet of his usual type, so picking one of them is not going to be an easy task.Especially since, while he's supposed to be focusing on his own love life, he's instead having a hell of a time getting this other contestant that he keeps running into backstage out of his head...
Relationships: Coën/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Priscilla, Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Mambo #5 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100123
Comments: 17
Kudos: 18





	1. Meet Cute x4 +1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story in a collaborative writing game! The introduction in italics was written by the amazing [MajorTrouble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble) and is common to all of the works in the series. From there, we all went in our own crazy directions! This particular brand of insanity should tap out at four chapters if I stick to my outline.
> 
> Also, as a side note to my fellow collaborators, I specifically purchased mango juice over the weekend to drink while working on this so I would be properly inspired. XD

No no no, that’s not the way it happened. Shall I start again? The real story is this...

_Jaskier looked around the green room nervously. He was used to being the centre of attention, but this was different. Essi had convinced him to fill in the online profile for the dating game show - Pick and Choose - whilst they were both completely wasted. It had been fun, ridiculous even, as he’d ticked all the little boxes denoting his likes and dislikes. They’d bonded, laughing hysterically as they drank directly from the bottle of rose while writing little essays about such mundane topics as “Your favourite movie and why” and “What is your best childhood memory?”_

_To be honest, Jaskier had completely forgotten about that night when, a few months later, a network executive had called him and set up an interview for the game show. A panel of bored, smartly-dressed, monochromatic men and women had asked him some standard questions about his life and then some not-so-standard and rather personal questions. He’d answered in his usual way - as flippantly and sarcastically as possible, just shy of being insulting. At the end of the process, convinced he wasn’t going to be their candidate, he’d called Essi and they’d relived that raucous night, drinking the cheapest rose they could find._

_The next morning, amidst a hangover unlike any he’d had since university, Jaskier received confirmation that he would indeed be the next bachelor fielding questions on the most popular dating game show to ever come out of Cintra Studios._

_The clock on the wall above his head wasn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the blood rushing in his ears. He’d already chugged a bottle of water and was currently regretting that choice as his stomach tied itself in knots. He hadn’t been allowed to meet any of the potential matches, but he knew it was an equal group of men and women. He made absolutely no secret of his bisexuality._

_Standing suddenly, he paced around the room several times before forcing himself to sit back down in the beautiful and incredibly uncomfortable brocade armchair. In some distant, detached part of his mind he hoped that the chair on the studio stage was more comfortable. Especially if he was going to be sitting on it for an extended period of time. He ran his hands back through his hair before belatedly realizing he was undoing the hairstylist’s hard work and rubbing his sweating palms on his black jeans instead._

_Finally, after what seemed like a glacial age, the door opened and a harried intern beckoned him to follow her down the corridor. She led him through a twisting series of hallways before they emerged out onto the weirdly familiar set of Pick & Choose. It was strange how different and yet the same it all was. What looked on a TV screen like plush green carpeting was actually astroturf. The sparkling silver letters in the background that heralded the name of the game were dull and the paint slightly flaking. He was ushered into a chair that was set up on what looked like cinder blocks, to be on a level with that of the host. At least it was comfortable - the overstuffed armchair engulfing nearly enveloping him as he sat down._

_Jaskier looked out over the bank of cameras, just able to make out the audience shuffling around in the background. He gulped nervously. How could he forget there were going to be live people here to witness this?_

_“It’s okay,” a voice murmured next to him. “You’ll be fine.” He turned to see the host of the show settling into her chair. Despite her warm voice, Tissaia had a severe look about her that challenged anyone to tell her no. Her auburn hair was piled artfully on top of her head, held in place by what Jaskier assumed was magic, as he couldn’t see anything obvious. She was wearing what on anyone else might look ostentatious - a midnight blue pantsuit with white slashes up the thighs - but on her looked regal. Eyes like a hawk pinned him in place, but the look was marred when she winked - winked - at him._

_Needless to say, Jaskier was immediately thrown off balance. He rubbed his hands on his jeans again and swallowed audibly. “Tha - thank-you, Tissaia. I ho - hope so.”_

_“I saw the tape of your interview,” she smirked before schooling her face to seriousness. “Don’t disappoint me.”_

_Before he had time to parse whatever the fuck that meant, the announcer was rambling that the show was about to start, and urged everyone to take their seats._

He fidgeted uncomfortably with the sweater and dress shirt combination he was wearing. The royal blue of the sweater did wonders for his eyes and the pale blue polka dots on the dress shirt definitely added the fun and quirky edge he thought indicative of his personal style, but it was a lot warmer under the stage lights than he had expected. The fact that he was nervous was not making him any less sweaty either. When the house lights dimmed and the theme song for _Pick and Choose_ came in loud and tinny, he couldn’t help but start in surprise, earning himself a disapproving look from Tissaia. Clearly he had already failed in his mandate to not disappoint her, which was actually kind of a relief to be honest. That was one less thing on his plate to worry about. To be quite frank, his nerves had been in shambles ever since he got to the damned studio at 6 o’clock that morning for his hair and makeup. And who films a dating show at 8 o’clock in the morning anyways!?! If he could have had a fortifying drink or two before meeting his adoring public, that always helped with the butterflies that plagued him at his live shows. Alas, even he had not fallen so far as to consider it acceptable to drink before most sane humans were even awake. Channelling his frustration and anger to cover his stagefright instead, he did manage to not jump when the stage lights brightened and his taped introduction began to play for the studio audience. Following Tissaia’s cue, he plasters a hopefully charming smile on his face as the last of the jingle peters off and the hostess starts her opening spiel.

“Welcome, one and all, to another week of _Pick and Choose_ , the dating show where we introduce one lucky contestant to four potential matches and see who they pick and who love chooses to favour! Our hopeful bachelor this time is a professor of history at Oxenfurt University and aspiring amateur musician, Jaskier!”

She gestured to him and Jaskier obediently kept the smile up while he waved to the crowd; he had enough experience keeping up appearances between a childhood spent as the eldest son of a prominent political figure and his, admittedly, limited experience on stage. Neither of those stopped him from muttering, “Amateur?” at her through his locked teeth however.

Unfortunately for him, the pick up on the mic he was currently wearing was a lot better than the shitty old things at the dive bars he had hitherto worked with and his snide remark was broadcast clearly to the entire audience. A wave of snickers passed through the crowd. In response, Tissaia just raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The angle, the swiftness of the movement, the slight tilt to her head, all worked in meticulous tandem to give the perfect portrayal of wry amusement and Jaskier had the very sudden realization that he was far out of his depth, adrift in deep waters. “My apologies.” Her voice was cool and measured. “I didn’t realize the revenue from your musical dalliances contributed significantly to your income.” The corner of an immaculately painted lip creeped upward. “That would be the definition of a professional, after all.” She was going to eat him alive.

Distinctly aware that his last gig, an artsy coffee shop favoured by students, had “paid” him by letting him take home any unsold bakery products at the end of the day, he quipped back self-disparagingly, “Well, it keeps me in bread.”

Tissaia and the crowd both laughed, just as he knew they would and Jaskier tried not to show his disappointment. He had hoped that, in front of all of these people who didn’t know him, he could have maybe reinvented himself as some confident, suave and dashing catch, but apparently he was going with his normal somewhat bumbling, but hopefully still charming self.

“So,” Tissaia continued when the laughter had died down, “Aspiring professional musician,” there is a small tittering again at that, “tell us a bit about your love life. You’re not unattractive, so why do you think you’ve had so much trouble finding a partner?”

The thing is, Jaskier had seen this show before, he and Essi used to have a ball laughing at it when they should have been studying for their finals, so he really should have been prepared for the bluntness of the question. It was Tissaia’s trademark style after all: cutting and to the point. Despite everything, he somehow still wasn’t ready for it. Retroactively, he wanted to apologise for laughing at them to all the ‘losers’ who sat in this seat before him. “Well, I’ve got a busy schedule, between teaching and gigs,” he was interrupted by another titter of laughter. Was every reference to his music going to be a joke from now on? That will be fun and not at all horrible in every possible way, shape and form. “And, well, it’s easy enough to find someone for a night or a weekend, but it’s harder to find someone for a more long term sort of affair, you know?”

Tissaia nodded sympathetically, but Jaskier had no doubt in his mind that she did not, in fact, know. Tissaia had never gone a day in her life without exactly what she wanted in it. She flicked through the papers in her clipboard and continued with a somewhat scandalous tone in her voice. “In your interview you definitely had no issues expressing, and in fantastic detail I might add, your preferences in bed, so shall I go out on a limb and assume there have been a great many weekends then?”

Jaskier felt his face heat and prayed it was just the stage lights. He should have known that it would be considered weird to answer all those questions so glibly in front of a room full of TV executives! But so he has a bit of experience? So he knows what he likes? They were the ones asking the questions in the first place! “I would say there have been enough weekends to solidly convince me that I’m done with just weekends.”

“Ah!” Tissaia nodded again and nudged him conspiratorially. “Finished sowing your wild oats and finally looking to settle down?”

He laughed. Not because her line had been particularly humorous, just because it was the sort of social gesture that was expected in this kind of situation. “I guess you could say I’m a bit tired of the normal dating scene, clubs and bars and friends of friends and such, so I thought why not leave it to the professionals?” No one was immune to a bit of flattery, and he had some ground to make up, so he laid it on a bit thick. As always, it was easy to pretend once he knew what he was supposed to be. “I’m excited to see who you’ve found for me, Tissaia!”

“We’re excited to introduce you to them! But, we’ll get to them in just a moment,” she smiled back, consummate professional again. “As you know, our love experts have planned four romantic dates. This season, our venues are: an intimate dinner, a lively arcade, a sociable wine and paint night and a casual visit to the zoo! Each of your four potential dates has seen your taped introduction, the same one which was shown at the top of our show, and has prepared their own three sentence introduction to you. After you meet them all, you get to pick which one you would like to go on which date with. When you’ve been on all of the dates, we’ll regroup here and see who your final choice is! Are you ready to meet your suitors?”

Jaskier, well aware of the conceit of the show, just nodded dumbly.

Tissaia gestured dramatically to stage right, where his matches were presumably waiting in the wings. Jaskier had enough time to wonder belatedly if they had been able to hear Tissaia call him a failure and a slut before her voice boomed through the space. “First we have, Yennefer!”

An obscenely attractive dark haired woman with violet eyes walked on to raucous applause. She was wearing a scandalously tight little black dress, ornate silver jewelry and a pair of stilettos whose heels could have easily doubled for daggers in a pinch. She walked to her mark confidently with that authoritative click of her shoes, and smiled as if she had been born to break hearts. Specifically, his. “I’m CBO at Aretuza Pharmaceuticals with a PhD in Chemistry and an MBA. I like people who can make me laugh and am looking for someone who can make me feel important to them. I tend to get what I want and, after seeing your introduction, I think I might want you.”

Jaskier gawked as she turned with a self-assured backward glance at him and walked to her seat, suddenly very glad that a) he was sitting down and b) he was not expected to respond until he had seen all his potential partners. Strong women were definitely his type and the tan slacks he was wearing were feeling noticeably tighter than they had a minute ago. So far the matchmakers from _Pick and Choose_ were off to a great start.

“And second, Valdo!”

The lithe and delicately pretty man who entered next was less physically Jaskier’s type, but as soon as he started talking Jaskier could see why they had been matched together. Valdo’s brown curls, very akin to Jaskier’s own actually, bobbed charmingly in his face before he tossed them to the side with a playful flick of his head and tucked his hands into the pockets of his navy blazer. Dark brown slacks and a checked shirt completed the look that was also eerily similar to Jaskier's own. “I’m also into history and music. I work at the Museum of Natural History and I’ve actually seen you play at The Kingfisher. I’d say, you’ve actually got a lot of potential.” He smiled and bowed his head slightly, an attractive blush on his cheeks, before going to take his seat.

Jaskier imperceptibly flinched. He knew it was imperceptible since Tissaia did not call attention to it and there was no way she would let any snide remark about his music go unaddressed. Not that it had entirely been a snide remark, but on the other hand it certainly hadn’t been a compliment. And he didn’t have many fond memories of that night at the Kingfisher.

“Next we have, Geralt!”

Geralt was, physically, much more Jaskier’s typical type: big, burly and beautiful. He was wearing stonewashed jeans and a black t-shirt that must have been painted on. He carried himself with a measure of self-assurance, honestly anyone hovering around 200 lbs of pure muscle could be pretty damn assured in any situation, but he did seem a little endearingly intimidated by the cameras, which Jaskier couldn’t help but see as sweet. Once he found his mark, he counted off his sentences on his fingers. “I think you seem nice and caring. I’m not always very talkative, but I’m a good listener. Please don’t make me go to the arcade.” Geralt almost seemed surprised when that got a reaction from the crowd and took his seat still sporting an adorably furrowed brow.

Jaskier had been known to be putty in the hands of the strong, silent type and his earnest sincerity was earning Geralt big points in Jaskier’s books, when the last contestant was introduced.

“And finally, Priscilla!”

A bubbly blonde woman in a wonderfully purple suit with a frilly white blouse strutted onto the stage. She waved enthusiastically to the crowd who happily cheered back for her before turning to dazzle Jaskier with her bright smile. “I teach drama at Novigrad South High and I’m a huge fan of musical theatre! I own every original cast recording from every winner of the yearly festival in Oxenfurt. We should definitely compare notes on musical influences of the early modern period.” When she winked at him, Jaskier could feel himself grinning back. He could already tell that, of all of the contestants, he would feel like he could be himself the most around Priscilla.

“So,” Tissaia continued once Priscilla’s applause had died down, “Now that you’ve seen him in person are any of you having second thoughts?”

The crowd laughed again as Valdo jokingly half put up his hand before shaking his head and leaving it in his lap. Jaskier felt his grin fading slightly and consciously bolstered it for the cameras. It was just the tone of the show. He shouldn’t take it personally.

Tissaia turned back to him with a polite smile. “Now, Jaskier, you’ve met your potential soul mates, and the crowd wants to know: are you taking Geralt to the arcade?”

A not insignificant part of Jaskier, the part his mother had always lovingly referred to as an unfettered agent of chaos, did sort of relish the idea of taking the taciturn man to the arcade against his will. He had set himself up for it so perfectly! But one look at Geralt’s terrified face was enough to sway Jaskier to mercy. “No, no. How could I possibly ignore such a passionate request? I think,” he quickly scanned his options and impulsively landed on Valdo. Call it a sexist stereotype if you will, but Priscilla and Yennefer didn’t really seem like the arcade type. “I think Valdo and I would have a grand time at the arcade, Tissaia. And definitely the wine and paint for Pris, can I call you Pris?” The blonde nodded encouragingly at him, which did wonders for his confidence. Sure, the start was a little rocky but here were four people who all actively wanted to date him. Or at least wanted to be on television enough that they were willing to pretend to want to date him, which was good enough for Jaskier. “I think that should be a great venue for artistic discussion.” So with two down, that left the dinner and the zoo. Yennefer did not look like someone who wore shoes for walking great distances in, so that question basically answered itself. “I would be honoured if Yennefer would accompany me to dinner and then Geralt can take me to the zoo!”

“Excellent! As you know, all of our romantic activities are suggested by local businesses and approved and improved by our team of excursion specialists-”

Jaskier found himself tuning out Tissaia’s necessary sponsor speech and ogling his matches. He could see himself getting along quite nicely with any of them to be honest. They were all, in their own ways, very much his type. Which was supposed to be a good thing, right? So he wasn’t sure why he had a niggling ball of concern gnawing at his innards. A small voice somewhere deep inside helpfully suggested that if Jaskier had had any luck with what he thought was his type in the first place then he wouldn’t have been desperate enough to volunteer to have his love life broadcast to the entire Continent now, would he?

There were a few other interview questions and niceties, but since the stress of actually meeting them and choosing his dates was over, Jaskier found himself finishing on autopilot. When the director finally yelled, “Cut!” Geralt, Yennefer, Valdo and Priscilla were quickly escorted off stage right where they had come in. He wouldn’t get to speak to them again until their dates. Jaskier watched them go with a mixture of trepidation and tentative optimistic anticipation.

“Well,” Tissaia seemed pleased. “That went swimmingly. You were just as good of a sport as I figured you would be. So many people get on here and start blubbering. I can’t stand it.” She stood and straightened her blazer before offering Jaskier her hand.

He wiped his hand on his slacks to remove some of the excess moisture before taking hers and meeting her strong grip. “Yeah. That’s me. Thick-skinned.” He tried not to think about how he wanted nothing more than Essi, another bottle of wine and to never be under Tissaia’s microscope again.

Tissaia gestured to the rapidly approaching intern. Jaskier recognized her as the same harried but exact woman who had brought him to the stage on time. “Rödi will give you the details for where you need to be for the rest of the week.” Tissaia sauntered off in the care of her own team of production assistants, stylists and gofers. “I’ll see you on Friday, Jaskier. Do try to have a good time. Or at least an interesting time.”

Schrödinger, Tissaia’s nickname for her had jogged Jaskier’s flagging memory and he now remembered their quick introduction this morning, guided him back through the maze of the studio to his green room, spitting the info about the dates at him rapidfire. Jaskier didn’t have the heart to interrupt her, she seemed solely dedicated to her mission to dump this wall of information on him and nothing, neither snow, nor rain, nor gloom of night, was going to stop her, but if she actually expected him to remember any of this she was going to be sorely disappointed. Even if he had had the mental fortitude to pay attention then, which he did not, the lack of coffee in his system was distinctly making itself known, she was talking far too fast for him to follow.

As soon as the door to his room was in sight, Jaskier pulled off the sweater and unbuttoned the dress shirt he’d been wearing. Between the harsh lights and Tissaia’s harsh questioning, he’d sweated through the both of them and was uncomfortably sticky, not to mention feeling more than a little vulnerable. He just wanted to be back in his comfy hoodie and to call Essi and have her tell him everything was going to be okay. He was not at all prepared for a pair of startled green eyes to meet his when he threw open the door. Neither entirely sure what to make of the situation, they just blinked at each other.

Finally, he turned to Schrödinger standing beside the door with a package of papers that most likely mercifully repeated all the information he had just ignored. “What is this man doing in my green room?”

The intern furrowed her brows at him in impatience. “Your green room? Where did you get that dumb idea? You think you’re the star or something? Only Tissaia gets her own room. This is the contestant's green room, Jaskier, and Coën is up next.”

The man, Coën presumably, waved timidly from the uncomfortable chair Jaskier had vacated not two hours earlier. “Hi.” He had a thick, but neatly trimmed black beard, shockingly green eyes, and his similarly dark hair was pulled back into a man bun that would have normally made Jaskier shudder at the sheer hipsterness of it, but, as much as he hated to admit it, the first thing he actually noticed were the scars. Either acne, or chicken pox, or some other childhood disease, the pockmarks peppered his face like freckles.

Jaskier quickly turned back to Schrödinger before Coën could catch him staring. “You film two of these a day?”

“Ha! I wish!” She scoffed at him, tucking a strand of mousy brown hair behind an ear. “We film four of these a day, sweetheart. You’re just the morning set. We’ve got two more this afternoon too.” She pushed the package into his hands, obviously hoping to move this interaction along to its inevitable conclusion as quickly as possible.

“Do we…” Coën cleared his throat and gestured somewhat nervously at Jaskier’s state of undress. “I didn’t know we might have to- I mean, I’m not prepared today to take off my clothes on television and nothing I signed said-”

“Oh, no! I took this off myself in the hall.” Jaskier was quick to assure him. If his face was that bad, even with the heavy stage makeup, God alone knew what the rest of him might look like. He couldn’t even imagine how intimidating the idea of having to disrobe before Tissaia and her studio audience might be even without that potential minefield. “No undressing on television. Well, no physical undressing. Just, y’know, the standard emotional undressing you signed up for.”

That didn’t actually seem to comfort the other man as much as Jaskier would have liked so he helpfully added, “I obviously naively thought I had this room to myself, although finding out I’m only one of four today does go a long way to explain why they would film a dating show at 8 o’clock in the morning.” Struggling for something else to say, Jaskier finished strongly with, “I didn’t mean to show you my nipples.” Which, of course, was a perfectly normal thing to say to a man you had just met.

“That’s okay. They are very nice nipples.” Amusingly, Jaskier could see the man regretting every sound that was coming out of his mouth literally as he was saying it and yet somehow he remained unable to stop himself from saying them. It was quite the facial journey. Coën had amazingly expressive eyebrows.

Schrödinger, who had presumably met much more eccentric candidates and for whom this ridiculous nipple talk was likely just part of a normal day at the office, raised the eyebrow over her golden eye while the brow over the green one stayed firmly in place. “Well, as long as that’s settled. Jaskier you can change and go. Make sure you are at Il Covo by 10AM tomorrow for hair and makeup. Coën stay put and I’ll come and get you in half an hour.”

She closed the door with a neat click and there was another moment of awkward silence where they just continued to stare at each other before Jaskier, all of the tension and anxiety from the morning just bubbling up inside him, couldn’t help himself. “They are very nice nipples?”

“I panicked!” They both immediately dissolved into a fit of giggles and Coën half-heartedly threw the Kleenex box on the dressing table at Jaskier. “You started it, you awful man! What is the appropriate response to ‘I didn’t mean to show you my nipples?’ It seemed rude not to say anything!”

“I just got off stage!” Jaskier protested, still giggling. “I was full of adrenaline and nerves! What’s your excuse?”

Coën just raised a brow and crossed his arms, pulling the dark grey dress shirt he was wearing tight across his shoulders. He was a ways from Geralt’s league, but could probably easily bench more than the average man, Jaskier noted idly. The black slacks and tie pulled the outfit together neatly, although it was a bit too monochrome for Jaskier’s taste. “Oh, so I take it you were the very picture of calm and cool collectedness while you were waiting alone in here, unsure of what and who was waiting for you on stage then?”

“Fair.” Jaskier had to concede the point. With a shake of his head he made for his hoodie, pulling the dress shirt off as he went. From within its wooly depths everything seemed more dealable. He flipped the hood up, covering his head, and took a moment to just breathe in the comfortable scent of himself and home and safe.

“Was- Was it really that bad?” Coën’s tentative voice broke him from his reverie.

Jaskier turned back to the other man, still keeping his arms wrapped protectively around himself. “Honestly? Kind of. Tissaia is a stone cold bitch, which I knew coming in, I mean, you’ve seen the show right?”

The dark haired man nodded solemnly. “I hadn’t heard of it before my… friends signed me up for the show without my knowledge, but once I was selected I made sure to watch a few episodes before agreeing to anything.” The long pause clearly indicated that the friendship status of some of those people may have been called into question after realizing exactly what he had gotten himself into. Instead of dwelling on it, Coën just shrugged though. "It seemed worth it for a chance to meet the one. You've got to- you've got to proactively go after the things you want, you know?"

Jaskier decided to sidestep that wide-eyed optimism entirely. Jaskier himself had no illusions about finding 'the' one. If he could find 'a' one, at least for a while, that would be enough. He hadn't been lying to Tissaia on the air; he was tired of one night stands. “I used to think Tissaia was hilarious. Me and Essi, that’s my best friend who got me into this whole mess, we both used to laugh ourselves sick at the poor schmucks she was roasting. But I guess it’s different when it’s your personal failings she is ironically mocking for everyone else’s amusement.” After a brief moment’s debate, Jaskier decided to shuck his slacks for his jeans as well. It’s not like, slut that he was after all, he had ever been body shy and given that he was wearing his lucky boxers, Coën wouldn’t get any more of an eyeful than he would have at the beach anyway.

Nevertheless, Coën very gentlemanly averted his gaze. Jaskier was actually a little touched at the propriety of the gesture. It had been a very long time since he had felt like someone people tried to be proper around. Even his students and the other faculty at school all saw him as the ‘fun’ professor, never one to stand on ceremony or tradition. It was a great persona to have, the guy everyone could get along with, but it didn’t really lend itself to being respected per se.

“Oh.” Coën finally responded quietly, eyes still courteously on his shoes. Jaskier hadn’t necessarily been trying to comfort him, more prepare him for what was to come, but he still felt a little bad at the slight dejected tone in the other man’s voice.

“The matches were all great though!” He added in an attempt to liven the mood. “Whoever they have scouring the city for dates seems to do a pretty good job. All of mine managed to hit at least one of my buttons, if you know what I mean. The first option, Yennefer, damn! I was half hard before she’d finished speaking. And Geralt! Woof! Talk about a beefcake!”

“Oh.” Coën’s cheeks were turning a really astounding shade of red. Jaskier’s mind helpfully recognized that he looked much better in that colour than black and grey.

Jaskier supposed that was a reasonable response though. Not everyone necessarily enjoyed being turned on in front of a crowd. Finally dressed, he walked over and clapped a hand encouragingly on Coën’s shoulder. “Just focus on your matches and try not to let Tissaia under your skin. You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” Coën finally smiled up at him and it was amazing how little the scars seemed to matter then. “You’re a kind person, Jaskier.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got a lifetime’s worth of people who would debate that with you. I’m mostly just an attractive pair of nipples, or I wouldn’t be on this show in the first place, would I?” Jaskier offered flippantly before shoving his nice clothes into his knapsack. They would be wrinkled horribly, but they were so disgusting they were going to have to be washed anyway. He tossed a small wave over his shoulder as he prepared to wander the myriad corridors of the studio vainly for an exit. “It was nice meeting you, Coën. And good luck!”

“You too. And Jaskier?”

He turned back from his position in the doorway, blue eyes meeting green again.

“I’m glad you liked your matches. I’m sure they thought you were kind too. You deserve someone who loves you for your heart and your nipples.”

With a bright laugh, Jaskier slammed the door in mock outrage.


	2. Yennefer

At about ten minutes to noon, when Schrödinger was bustling Jaskier out of the bathroom-cum-greenroom at the back of Il Covo to the main dining hall for the start of his date with Yennefer, Jaskier finally thought to ask the obvious question. “Wait. If we’re eating at noon, isn’t this technically a romantic lunch, not a romantic dinner?”

Schrödinger just rolled his eyes and adjusted the pageboy cap that was keeping his dishwater blonde hair under control this morning. He did look a bit like he belonged more backstage at a production of the Newsies than he did shuttling confused bachelors around the bowels of an Italian restaurant, but Jaskier thought the warm earth tones did more for his complexion than the harsh grey suit had yesterday. Although when he had pointed that out to the seemingly eternally harried man, all he had gotten in response was a dry comment about saving it for his match. “Did you hit your head last night? I told you yesterday, we shoot four of these at once. Filming’s tight and we can’t waste time. It’s more efficient to just rent each space out for only one day and film all four dates instead of four subsequent evenings.”

“I mean,” Jaskier continued pontificating, “it really makes no difference to me, but won’t the audience figure out your ruse when instead of soft candlelight playfully dancing across our faces we are dining in the bright unforgiving light of day?” Jaskier dragged his feet, waiting for an answer. He had dressed to look good in dim warm light after all. He was definitely just genuinely curious and not at all trying to stall for time before being thrown in front of the cameras to attempt to woo one of the most beautiful people he’d ever laid eyes on.

“We put heavy curtains up over the windows. You’ll get your soft candlelight, Casanova.” Schrödinger jabbed him with a pencil to propel him forward.

“Thought of everything, haven’t you.” Jaskier grit out under his breath, but obligingly picked up the pace.

“Yes.” It wasn’t shallow overconfidence in Schrödinger’s answer, just the calm assurance of someone who had done this half a hundred times. Jaskier got the impression that no matter what he tried to do, make a run for the exit, fake a heart attack, or lock himself in a broom closet, the precisely competent Schrödinger would have foreseen and adequately planned for that eventuality.

“Do you film us in the same order every day?” Jaskier turned to ask the question and Schrödinger’s mismatched eyes narrowed. “I mean, I, at least, get lunch, but Coën’s stuck with what? A romantic mid-afternoon snack?”

“Is Coën really who you should be focussed on right now?”

“No, no. Of course not. Just… it’s kinda shitty for him, isn’t it?” They had only had a very brief interaction the day before, but Jaskier got the impression that Coën was maybe a touch on the idealistically romantic side, what with his sincerely earnest comment about working hard to find ‘the one’ and all. He’d probably be a bit disheartened at the deception.

“The meal’s here start at $100 a plate and he’s not paying a single red cent for his or his date’s, despite the fact the numbskull freaking offered to. I’m sure he’ll find a way to survive.” With a final push, Schrödinger ejected Jaskier into the dining room. “Now stop worrying about the other bachelors and keep your eye on the prize here!”

Just to be contrary, and because he had a bad habit of worrying at things he had no control over like a sore tooth, Jaskier continued to fret mildly about Coën’s potential disappointment. It also, rather selfishly he had to admit, made him feel a bit better about his own prospects since he did get the slightly better time slot and was not the type to be fazed by a little light lying. All thoughts of the other man were blown completely out of his mind, however, when Yennefer walked in.

The first thing Jaskier noticed was that she looked positively amazing in the black cocktail dress, silver star-themed jewelry and stilettos she had chosen to wear. The second thing he noticed was that she undoubtedly knew it. Her smile when she caught Jaskier gawking was downright predatory. Jaskier fumbled slightly to find his footing as he held out her chair for her, but he regained his balance quickly. It’s not like he wasn’t aware that he looked damned good too in the silver paisley dress shirt and black tie he had chosen and, serendipitously, they even matched. This was a game he had played before, after all. There had been, as he had somewhat reluctantly told Tissaia the day before, a great many weekends.

“How chivalrous,” Yennefer teased as she took her seat. “But no hello?”

“What can I say, Yennefer,” Jaskier boldly let his hands ‘accidentally’ brush her shoulders as he pushed her chair in. “Your beauty has rendered me speechless.”

She laughed like ice tinkling in a cocktail glass. “I have a feeling that can’t be a common occurrence for you, considering both of your professed professions require a degree of loquaciousness. Laying it on a little thick to start, are we?”

Jaskier shrugged and grinned as he took his own seat, nerves evaporating. This was banter. Banter he could do. “Well begun is half done?”

A dark brow raised over tantalizingly violent eyes. “Expect to finish so soon? Most men wouldn’t brag about that.”

“I would never finish before a lady.” Jaskier leaned in to salaciously continue the flirtation, but a strangled cough from someone in the background reminded him both that they were being filmed and that he was supposed to be looking for a long term partner, not just tempting Yennefer back to his for a night. It was so easy to fall into old patterns though. He cleared his throat in an attempt to reset the mood a little and changed tack. “I noticed you wore black yesterday in the studio as well, is it your favourite colour?”

Yennefer seemed a little thrown off by the abrupt change in tone, but rolled with it like a pro. “It might just be. Suits me, don’t you think?” She leaned back and posed slightly.

“Eminently.” Jaskier responded eagerly.

She touched the pentagram at her throat with affected coyness. “Worried I might be a witch?”

Now that was an opening into a mature adult conversation. Religious affiliations were probably something people talked about with potential long term partners, at least to the degree required to assure there were no glaring conflicts between interested parties. Jaskier was agnostic himself, but his background in history gave him at least a passing primer on most of the major faiths on the Continent, not to mention that religious songwriting, as it was particularly significant to a number of time periods, was an entire subdiscipline that he taught. If Yennefer was passionate about her spirituality he would be more than happy to listen to her and it would be a great opportunity to get to know her better. Except Yennefer, still touching her neck and biting her lower lip slightly, didn’t particularly look like she was interested in talking about metaphysics. To be honest, she didn’t particularly look like she was interested in eating either, at least not anything on the menu, so Jaskier chickened out. “Well you’ve certainly bewitched me. Although I was thinking your style was less goth and more classic. Like a black-and-white movie starlet.” Jaskier grinned at her. “Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

Yennefer grinned back. “I am partial to diamonds.”

The waiter came by and interrupted their smooth back and forth with two menus and a wine list, probably prompted by someone offstage when they realized that Yennefer and Jaskier were not likely to stop anytime soon and if they actually wanted to get this meal finished before Coën’s date was supposed to start they would need some gentle prodding along. After quickly perusing the menu, Yennefer reached for the wine list which had been very diplomatically placed in the exact centre of the table as opposed to handed to either of them.

“Ah!” Jaskier interrupted her motion with a tentative grin. “Do you mind if I order you a drink?” It was a game he really enjoyed playing with his dates: trying to order something that his partner would like. If the other person looked hesitant, he would usually go with a safe bet, like an easy drinking wine, but it was the most fun to play with confident people, when he could be more adventurous and try to order a cocktail his date had never heard of before. It was always enjoyable to see someone experience something new, and even if they hated it, it was good to know if they were the kind of person who would drink something politely or tell him upfront that he had horrible taste in alcohol. He didn’t think he would try to mess with Yennefer too much though. For her, a classic martini would fit wonderfully with her whole aesthetic, although maybe with a twist of zesty lemon in place of the usual olive. She did look devastating in black, but Jaskier had always been more drawn to colour himself.

A small wrinkle appeared between her brows at the suggestion however and her eyes darkened a fraction in displeasure. “Going to order dinner for me too, you big strong man you?”

Jaskier quickly raised his hands in surrender and laughed at himself. “Of course not. Didn’t mean to offend. Just having a bit of fun. I like trying to guess what people might like.” He humbly didn’t mention that he was damned good at it. He bit his own bottom lip back, playing at an affected coyness. If Yennefer liked to come on strong, and he could tell she did, he had no problem playing submissive for a night. “Do you want to order a drink for me?” Finding out what she thought of him drinkwise would be at least as entertaining as trying to surprise her.

She did look more pleased at that suggestion, but instead of ordering him anything interesting or off the wall, she simply selected a bottle of cabernet franc for them to split, a deep, earthy red wine that Jaskier hated. Which, fine, she had no reasonable way of knowing that his tastes in wines ran lighter and fruitier. Except, of course, that he had mentioned that in his taped introduction. But giving her the benefit of the doubt, maybe that part had been cut for time; the clip they’d shown yesterday in the studio was definitely not everything he’d filmed, and he’d been too nervous to pay that much attention to it as it was rolling. At least, Yennefer seemed to really like the wine. If she had been paying attention, she would have noted that Jaskier was the kind of person to drink something politely instead of telling someone upfront they had horrible taste in alcohol although Jaskier got the distinct impression that she didn’t particularly care.

Conversation continued to flow easy between them, back and forth, as the appetizers were served. Jaskier had wanted to split the mozzarella with prosciutto and basil, but caved to Yennefer’s request for the bruschetta. Or rather, Yennefer had said he could have that and she was going to order the bruschetta and didn’t seem bothered that neither of them could reasonably finish an entire appetizer themselves and so would be wasting food. Jaskier somehow doubted that Schrödigner would let him take home a doggy bag. Besides, sharing an appetizer was more romantic and the bruschetta really was very good.

“So, history professor?” Yennefer asked, swirling the wine in her glass as they waited for their mains. “That’s a pretty decent job. Tenure?”

“Mm-hmm. So even if I do end up embarrassing myself horribly on this show they can’t just fire me out of hand.” Jaskier also swirled the wine in his glass, but more due to an instinctive need to fiddle than any belief that aerating it would improve the taste. “I actually double-majored in history and music as an undergrad and I specialize now in the history of music. There’s a lot of really interesting things that music can say about an era. Right now I’m working on interpretations of some of the original Cintran ballads and how they related to actual historical figures. I even taught myself to play the lute, you know, to get a real feel for the time period.” He grinned broadly as he spoke; he did genuinely like his work.

Yennefer smirked at him over the rim of her wine glass. “Ah, is that your instrument of choice at your… little shows?”

Jaskier winced slightly as someone behind the camera giggled slightly. He had almost forgotten that Tissaia had helpfully made that into somewhat of a running joke. Let it never be said that he couldn’t laugh at himself though. He smirked back quickly. “No. I generally go with a guitar there. Acoustic though, since being a history professor I’m clearly stuck in the past, long before the advent of electricity.” Yennefer laughed, as he expected she would. That wasn’t, of course, the real reason he preferred the acoustic guitar to the electric, he just thought the acoustic always sounded more raw and emotional, but he wasn’t going to say that to those teasing violet eyes now. “Do you play any instruments?”

“No.” Yennefer shook her head as the waiter placed a plate of seafood linguine in front of her. “I never had the time for frivolities like that.”

“It can’t be that frivolous,” Jaskier kept his voice light and took a big bite of his lasagna to cover the visceral reaction he had had to Yennefer’s flippant comment. He may be agnostic, but disparaging music was still downright blasphemous in his book. “Some people make a decent living with a guitar.”

“Do you?” Yennefer teased back, eyes sparkling. “You have to admit, it’s not a very practical way to make any money, given the number of people who try and don’t succeed.”

“Unlike pharmaceuticals?” Yennefer jumped at the opportunity to talk about her work, which sounded cutthroat and maybe a little evil to Jaskier since as Chief Business Officer she seemed to be the one with the ultimate control over the pricing and distribution of the drugs that Aretuza Pharmaceuticals produced. He could tell that Yennefer obviously also enjoyed her work as well though, since once she got started on it he managed to get maybe eight words in edgewise - all questions since the world of business was one he had never dabbled in before. Once Jaskier finally understood what exactly it was that Yennefer did though, her stories rapidly stopped being about the job itself and started being about her coworkers.

Jaskier felt a twinge of guilt at the change in tone, he had made a New Year’s resolution to try to be less of a gossip himself, but it was just so much easier to go with Yennefer’s flow than to try and fight it and he found himself telling stories of who fell into bed with whose wife at the faculty holiday party, whose eldest had been arrested multiple times for driving under the influence and who thought that no one would notice they got a nose job while on sabbatical. He didn’t mention any names, or overly identifying features, since he wasn’t actually that confident that the university couldn’t fire him for embarrassing them on national television, but the people in question would have no problem identifying themselves if they bothered to watch. It was mean, he knew it was mean, but Yennefer was hanging off his every word and eagerly matching him story for story.

It was a bit of a relief for Jaskier’s battered conscience when the waiter finally appeared with the dessert menu. He gestured for the man to give it to Yennefer, an hour and a half in and he was already pretty confident of his place in this potential relationship. She waved it off, however. “I’m not really fond of sweets.”

Jaskier loved sweets, but not enough to make Yennefer sit around and watch him devour something. He accepted the dessert menu, thereby allowing the waiter to beat a hasty retreat, but tossed it casually in front of him without looking at it. “So what did she do when she realized that you had heard everything she said?”

Jaskier didn’t hear the end of Yennefer’s story, however, because as he looked back across the table at her, some writing on the back of the desert menu caught his eye. It was a cocktail list and one of the house specialities was a Mango Spice. Mango juice, agave syrup, vodka, lime juice and muddled jalapeño peppers. Jaskier grabbed the menu back up, ignoring the affronted noise that Yennefer made entirely. It was absolutely perfect for Coën, he just knew it: sweet, spicy, soft and surprising.

“Jaskier!” He dropped the menu and snapped his attention back to his date with a small embarrassed yelp. Yennefer did not look amused. “Change your mind on dessert?”

“No, no. Just, my mind was somewhere else for a moment. A thousand apologies. What were you saying?” 

Yennefer raised a brow challengingly. “I was saying that I had a really good time tonight.” Her tone of voice clearly indicated that the last few minutes were not included in that assessment.

Jaskier flushed slightly. It was ridiculous. Why on Earth would his mind jump to Coën like that when Yennefer was sitting right there? “Me too.” It had, overall, been a very successful date. He stood quickly when she indicated she was ready to leave and pulled the chair out for her. Yennefer stood and, apparently forgiving him for his minor transgression at the end, turned into his embrace. At this distance her perfume, lilac and gooseberries, was downright intoxicating. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and licked her bottom lip. Jaskier wanted nothing more than to lean in and trap her mouth with his own, but he let her initiate the kiss, pulling him down with a firm hand in his hair; she obviously preferred it that way.

She kissed as well as she gossiped, but, then again, so did Jaskier.

“See you in the studio.” Her voice was low and husky as she sauntered out.

“Damn.” Schrödinger’s voice startled Jaskier back into reality. The man was giving him a begrudgingly respectful look. “I think that’s one of the hotter things I’ve ever seen working this show. You two really do look like a matching set. I could really see you turning heads at some big wig social function, probably drive all her coworkers green with envy. Not bad, lover boy.”

Jaskier self consciously rubbed his lips, stained now with her dark lipstick. “Thanks. I think.”

“Now get out of here so we can set up for Coën.” He smacked Jaskier playfully with the clipboard. “10AM tomorrow at Tilt and you can see if you and Valdo can top that performance.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck and stretched out his back. He’d got a bit of a crick in it from leaning over towards Yennefer all meal. In the corner of his vision, the dessert menu was whisked off the table by the waiter. “Hey!” He called Schrödinger back as he turned away. “Could you slip a note to Coën for me?”

The intern raised the brow over his golden eye again, clearly demonstrating a preference when moderately amused. “I suppose.”

Jaskier grinned, more than a little pleased to have even slightly surprised Schrödinger, and appropriated the man’s clipboard. At the top of his now completed schedule, he scribbled ‘Try the Mango Spice Cocktail!’

*

Jaskier tried several times to unsuccessfully convince himself that it wasn’t creepy that he was hanging around outside Il Covo waiting for Coën’s date to finish. It was ridiculous. He barely knew the man. But this whole dating show set up was such an unparalleled experience that he thought it would be invaluable to discuss it with one of the few other people who actually knew what it felt like. Plus, he couldn’t help but wonder if Coën had tried the cocktail, and, if he had, whether he liked it. Besides, it’s not like he had anything else to do today. He had received a dozen text messages from Essi who undoubtedly wanted to be debriefed, but she was supposed to be at work and he was already planning on meeting her for dinner anyway. She could wait a few hours.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if Coën’s date was actually longer than his or whether it just felt longer because he was anxiously waiting outside, but eventually the dark haired man finally emerged blinking into the daylight. Jaskier, with unfettered delight, noticed that for this occasion he had chosen to wear a soft orange dress shirt with a burnt orange tie, although his hair was still pulled back into the horrendous man bun. He really did look better in colours, though.

“You matched your drink!” Jaskier exclaimed as he hopped off the bench and hurried over.

“Jaskier?” Coën smiled and shook his head. “I should have guessed. Schrödinger didn’t tell me who the note was from.”

“So what did you think?” The butterflies which had not been present throughout his entire meal with Yennefer were for some reason making an unwanted appearance now.

“It was… interesting. Sweet but hot. I’d want to try it again, but I think I liked it.” His eyes turned playfully stern. “Shani absolutely hated it though, so thanks for that.”

Jaskier laughed and looped his arm through Coën’s and tugged him towards the park across the road. Despite probably being able to easily lift Jaskier, the larger man good-naturedly let himself be dragged. People who went patiently along with Jaskier’s nonsense were always the most fun. “Sorry. I saw it on the menu and thought of you.”

“You thought of me?” The look on Coën’s face was hard to interpret, so Jaskier just pressed on.

“I like trying to match people to drinks. It’s just a silly little game.”

“Well, you must be pretty observant to enjoy something like that. And it was a really interesting drink. And it was kind of you to think of me.” Coën tugged on his trapped arm, pulling Jaskier slightly off balance and closer to him. “I’ll have to play my cards closer to my chest in the future, if I want to get something by you.”

Jaskier flushed slightly, but did not make an inappropriate comment about Coën’s chest. However, given that the only things flitting through his mind were inappropriate comments about Coën’s chest, he had no idea how to respond to that.

After an awkward moment of silence, Coën cleared his throat and continued. “So how was your date? It couldn’t have been that engaging if you were busy trying to match me to a drink.”

“Oh, no. It was great actually. We got on like a house on fire. She said she had a good time and she gave me a hell of a kiss at the end.” Jaskier beamed.

“She gave you?” Coën seemed a little confused by the wording.

Jaskier just nodded. “Yeah, Yennefer seems to like being in control, which is unbelievably sexy.” He waved his hand which was not cradling Coën’s bicep dismissively. “It’s not a big deal. I just let her pick the wine. And the appetizer. And the dessert, or lack thereof. We talked a lot.”

“About the both of you?”

“Well, about her mostly. She’s not that interested in history or music apparently. Called it frivolous actually.” He laughed at himself as a social cue so Coën would know he really wasn’t upset. He didn’t need his partner to talk about history or music; he had Essi for that anyway.

Coën furrowed his brow though. “Those are things that are important to you?”

“Umm,” Jaskier shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I teach history of music at Oxenfurt.”

“And she called that frivolous?”

Jaskier dropped Coën’s arm and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m not explaining this well. It was good. We both talked about what we did a bit. And then we traded some… work stories.” He could instinctively tell that Coën would not take well to hearing that they gossiped viciously about their coworkers. “It was nice. Really. She is definitely still in contention for my final choice. How was your date?”

Coën sighed, a sound that seemed to originate somewhere in the depths of the earth itself. “Fine.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to look skeptical. “Well that’s a glowing review.”

The darker haired man chuckled. “She was fine. Very polite. Very smart. A doctor.” Jaskier waited; it was obvious Coën had more to say. Finally, after a few minutes, he added very softly, “She asked about my scars.”

“The bitch.” Jaskier’s response was instantaneous.

Coën just rolled his eyes in response though. “She’s a doctor. It was just professional curiosity. You don’t usually see such extensive scarring with chicken pox, but I got them when I was thirteen, much older than typical, and I got them bad.”

“It was rude.” Jaskier insisted, angrier than he honestly expected himself to be. Coën was a sweet man who stupidly actually believed in this whole romance thing and it was utterly unfair for him to have been put in that situation.

“I’m used to people staring.” Because Coën was a good person, he didn’t mention that Jaskier himself had stared when he’d first met him. “And I definitely heard worse in high school.”

“That doesn’t matter. Look,” Jaskier grabbed Coën’s shoulder and tugged him around so they were standing face to face. “I know you know I stared too, you’re just too nice to call me on it, so you probably think I don’t have any right to talk. But the thing is, I know I’m a jerk sometimes. I know I’m petty and a pushover and a gossip and mean. But I should be better. You shouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit just because I haven’t got my act together. That’s on me, not you.”

Coën blinked, surprised at the vehemence in Jaskier’s words. “That’s how the world is, though.”

So he wasn’t a complete idealist. For some reason, that only made it hurt worse. “Fine. That’s true. But I don’t have to like it, do I? I just- I just wish I was the only asshole you had to deal with. You deserve better.”

The dark haired man lifted a hand to Jaskier’s cheek. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

Jaskier just sniffled, overly self-conscious about how emotional he had gotten so quickly. “It’s really not.”

Coën smiled, undaunted by his display. "To want the world to be a better place, to see your own faults and want to be a better man, I think those are kind traits."

"I think more of that awful wine got to my head that I thought." Jaskier tried to walk on and leave the uncomfortable situation physically behind him.

"Well, I think you deserve someone who likes your music.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out. “So now I need to find someone who likes my music, my heart and my nipples? That's a tall order, Coën.”

“I’m sure they are out there somewhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [octinary.tumblr.com](https://octinary.tumblr.com) if you want to chat! I am very suggestible and love hearing from people.


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